


pretty night thing that bites

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, EVERYTHING BETWEEN MAIN PAIRING IS FULLY CONSENSUAL, First Time, Hair-pulling, Human/Vampire Relationship, I actually don't like vamps shhh don't tell, I hope the sexy vampire stuff makes up for the angst, I tried to make it fluff, Kinktober, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Protective Credence Barebone, Protectiveness, Sappy Ending, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vampire Bites, Vampire Credence Barebone, Young Original Percival Graves, allusions to mind control, and cuddles, attempted non-con, because Credence will let NOTHING HAPPEN to his precious bby auror, no actual mind break oops, oh boy here we go - Freeform, or like 'vampire glamour', sorry this one isn't as fluffy guys, there is some fluff, this is my first vamp fic please go easy on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Credence is a vampire in love with a junior auror and rising star at MACUSA. Imagine his delight and surprise the day he finds out said star auror loves him back...and imagine what he'll be willing to do to anyone who tries to hurt his mate.DAY 18 of KinktoberWritten for prompts: Mind break | Hair-pulling | Praise | Anal sex(Note - author went with very, very, VERY loose interpretation of mind break. And by that I mean, there is literally only a few brief references to mind control in the story. And by that I mean, you know what, I probably should have crossed that prompt out, because I really only used, like, the La Croix version of it.)
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: Kinktober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950283
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	pretty night thing that bites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



> WARNING WILL ROBINSON
> 
> There is a brief scene of attempted noncon, followed by a scene of violence directly in response to the attempted assault. If that will be problematic for you, skip from the section that begins "Not everyone at MACUSA likes Percy" and start reading again at the section that begins "Percy sleeps in his arms that night."
> 
> Also, quick note re: mind break prompt - this kind of sparked the idea of doing a vampire story, because I really, truly hate the "vampire glamour" concept and wanted to put a kind of gentler spin on it, and show a vampire who doesn't like to control people or force people to let him drink from them, and really, the "vampire mind control" is mostly only alluded to. So. Apologies if you came here looking for magical entranced vamp-on-human sex. ;P
> 
> Honestly, guys, this is kind of just my, pun very much intended, "bite me" to a lot of typical vampire tropes. The scene of attempted non-con is my "eff you" to a certain scene in the Twilight series, and even the biting during sex comes in response to my general frustration with "vampires can't stop once they get started and will drain their victims" etc.
> 
> (This is mostly amazingly non-graphic for a vampire story.)
> 
> (And actually that probably is because I kind of hate vampires.)
> 
> (And actually I probably will never write this kind of fic again.)

A handful of idiots got hold of a mogwai nest and got the five babies wet so they could have more mogwai to sell…and the result, as one could imagine, was catastrophic. So many outbreaks of creature activity. _So many._ And Credence’s boss, Newt Scamander, Creature Expert, was of course called in to MACUSA to help.

That’s not the problem. Credence can handle a few pissed-off mogwai. What he can’t handle is the junior auror who has been assigned as a liason to the creature department. Percival Graves is actually probably the best junior auror in the department, probably more competent than half the senior aurors too. He talks and moves and even stands and holds himself like he’s already the head of the DMLE. And more than that—he is a _damn good wizard._

Watching the man fight is the most erotic thing Credence has ever seen. Half the time he doesn’t even use his wand, just waves his hand and makes blue-white lightning appear from nowhere, aims it at his target with unerring precision, and takes the briefest moment to ensure said target is incapacitated before moving onto the next. He’s fast and brutal, but never kills if he can help it.

And after only a few times of seeing him in action, Credence is desperately in love with him.

~

Credence wishes he knew more about love, but it seems to be one of those things that no matter how many years you spend on earth, you never really understand.

 _Did_ he love his sire? Maybe. He was nineteen then, too young to know what love was, and now here he is forever frozen at nineteen, never allowed to see what he would look like at Grindelwald’s age. At least when his sire died, he sometimes thinks bitterly, he died knowing what it meant to grow older.

Credence forces himself to stop thinking of those days. They happened literally decades ago, and there’s no changing them now. Besides—he has Newt now, who knows exactly who and what he is and doesn’t care. Newt, who steals blood bags from the hospitals on the days Credence feels too broken to hunt. Newt, who sleeps beside him in a tent when they go into the field and has never once showed the merest trace of fear around him, who recoiled in shock and disgust when Credence offered him a gun with silver bullets “just in case.”

Anyway—love. Credence is pretty sure he’s in love. He knows what some of his fellow vamps would advise. _Just use_ mesmer _on the kid and drag him back to your place. After you feed on him a few times during sex he’ll be addicted to you and you won’t even have to keep him entranced._ No. That’s the worst thing he could possibly do. He wants to win over Mr. Graves, not just enchant him. He’s seen relationships start based on love potions and the like. It never works.

He can’t force the auror to love him. But maybe…hope rises in him…maybe Credence can befriend him. Let Mr. Graves see that he is not a threat, that he really does just care about him and wants him to be safe and happy. And then…even if Mr. Graves never wants him…at least he can be the man’s friend. At least he’ll have that much.

~

If Graves (“Oh my _God_ Cree, I’m twenty-four years old, if you call me ‘mister’ _one more time_ I’m gonna stake you!”) were a vampire, the simple thing to do would be to offer him a vial of Credence’s own blood. Vampire blood is powerful, and to give even a drop of it to someone is a sign of utmost respect and love. But he has a feeling Graves won’t be too impressed by that.

Instead, he learns which of the pastries in the MACUSA cafeteria are Graves’ favorites, and brings one to him every time they have to go out on a mogwai call. (The mogwai, by the way, become the bane of MACUSA’s existence that summer. The aurors exasperatedly begin to refer to the gremlins as “danger rats.”) He learns that Graves can’t function without coffee, and makes sure to carry some on him at all times—and when they get a three AM call and have to catch eight mogwai on no sleep, that collapsible thermos turns out to hold the elixir of life.

He learns through observation that Graves stays long after he’s expected to go home, and learns after a few conversations with the man that Graves very rarely goes out on the weekends and never sees his coworkers socially. In fact, he doesn’t have many friends at all. He’s lonely. Credence can feel it coming off him in waves. But he’s strong and fiercely proud and determined to a fault.

It takes every ounce of courage Credence possesses to ask Graves for a date, and when he does manage to convey, however awkwardly, that he’d like to take Graves to a movie, the man looks utterly confused for a moment before it clicks into place. “Oh,” he breathes. “You—like me?”

“I do.” Credence pauses, and then offers cautiously, “You do know…what I am.”

Graves nods solemnly. “I know you’re a good man. I know that you let the danger rats scratch you up so the rest of us can get away, because you can’t get hurt the way we can. I know that Newt trusts you, and he’s pretty much…well, a walking trouble magnet, and the worst bleeding-heart I’ve ever met, but he’s also one of the best people I know and if he trusts you, so do I.”

Credence’s heart is in his throat. If he could still cry, tears would be pouring down his face. He reaches out and offers a hand that is quickly, gently taken between both of Graves’, and he shyly suggests, “We could see the new Marvel movie? I’ll pick you up Saturday night at eight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Graves replies with a smile, and he clutches Credence’s hand between both of his own like it’s a precious treasure, and for the first time in eighty years Credence feels _alive._

~

Credence dresses carefully on Saturday night, gently rejecting Newt’s attempts at fashion advice. He ends up in a simple red button-down shirt and jeans, and silently prays Graves (who always looks like he’s just walked out of an issue of _GQ)_ doesn’t roll his eyes and walk away the second he sees him.

He doesn’t. He greets Credence with a smile, invites him into his apartment, pours out some white wine and offers it shyly, like he’s handing over his heart instead of a plastic wineglass, and his tense face relaxes a little when Credence not only drinks it, but smiles and thanks him for it.

They walk to the movie theater hand-in-hand, as it’s only a few blocks from Graves’ apartment, and the whole time Credence feels butterflies. It’s sweet and it’s lovely and it feels…right. “I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than a few months,” Graves confesses nervously as they take their seats. “I’m sorry if that’s forward, but I—you know, I think you know me well enough by now to know I don’t really like to mess around.”

Credence gets bold. Slips an arm around Graves’ shoulders and gently draws him in. “I know. And I feel it too. Does it freak you out?” he asks candidly.

Graves shakes his head and then (Credence nearly cries) lets his head tip over on to Credence’s shoulder. “No. It’s…I like it. It feels good.”

 _Yes it does,_ Credence thinks as the lights dim. The movie is nice enough. Some generic popcorn blockbuster with lots of fight scenes and hetero kissing scenes and not nearly enough plot for Credence’s taste, but he doesn’t mind. He just wants to be with Graves. He’d watch paint dry and be perfectly content.

When they leave the theater and walk back they linger, and then linger again at the door, and finally Graves tells him, “I want you to come in.”

“Should I?” Credence asks, almost talking to himself.

Instead of answering aloud Graves puts his hand around the back of Credence’s neck and draws him into a slow, meaningful kiss. The kind of kiss that says, _I’ve been waiting for that all night._ The kind of kiss that means, _I want to do this more than once._

“Oh…” Credence rests his forehead against Graves’ after he pulls away. “Now I think I have to come in.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

~

Credence does go inside. And then, alone and naked with Percy—“sweetheart, if you’re going to make me come like that you’d damn well better call me by my first name”—he goes inside again.

They make love. Slow, tender, intimate. Sinking into Percy’s warm, welcoming body is like falling into a soft bed at the end of a long day, like getting into a hot bath after being caught in a cold rain. The man’s soft, needy little noises of pleasure make Credence feel feral. He wants so badly to bite—not to feed, he’s not hungry, he just wants to take some of Percy into himself.

Vampires bite each other during sex if they think they’ve found their soulmate. Credence knows very well what the urge to sink his teeth into Percy’s neck despite having just fed this morning, really means.

But he doesn’t bite. Instead he takes his time with Percy and learns all sorts of lovely things—learns, for instance, that Percy goes weak when his hair is tugged, that when Credence whispers _you’re so good, so good for me_ it tips him over the edge almost every time, that he is deliciously sensitive to being eaten out, and that he will all but melt into a puddle if his neck is kissed or stroked.

Credence loves every minute of it. He kisses and caresses and soothes Percy to sleep with a hint of _mesmer_ afterwards, and wakes his new lover with more sweet, soft kisses the next morning and makes him coffee and toast and bacon. And when he and Percy walk into MACUSA together he feels so happy he could burst, because everyone knows who Percy is and it doesn’t matter, he knows it doesn’t, he’s so proud to be dating someone so _good._

~

Not everyone at MACUSA likes Percy.

Some of the junior aurors glower at him when the head of the DMLE heaps praise on him, lets him accompany senior aurors on dangerous raids, lets him do, well, anything other than paperwork and shadowing and sparring sessions. But out of respect for their boss (and some of them out of grudging respect for Percy) they say nothing.

The senior aurors, on the other hand…they love him. _Until…_

Until the night that someone sends in what no one but Percy realizes is a veiled threat to President Picquery’s life, and he fights hard and risks his job to make sure she is alerted to what everyone else thinks is just a joke. She finds out, and takes the threat seriously. And then the next day Abernathy is in a holding cell after attempting to poison the President, and it is found that he was _imperiused_ by a known terrorist organization that wants to pick up where Gellert Grindelwald left off, and everyone at MACUSA is talking about how this little baby junior auror saved Picquery’s life.

And then the senior aurors hate him.

Credence doesn’t like the way that some of them look at Percy. He doesn’t like that they smile and greet him politely but glare darkly at his retreating back. He doesn’t like the things they feel when they look at him. They don’t just hate him. They want to to break him. Making him hurt would make them feel better about themselves. They can’t stand that they were shown up by a junior auror, and instead of vowing to do better next time, they want to take out their humiliation and disappointment on Percy.

And Credence warns him to stay away. And Percy promises he will, but he can’t just not go to work.

And—and then—one night—one _awful_ night—

Credence stays late to finish the reports of the final mogwai raid. They finally caught the morons who watered the nest and, thankfully, that should be the end of it. He’s just slipped it into the auror department’s mailbox when he hears the commotion.

He knows where it’s coming from before he even goes in that direction. The junior aurors’ training room. And he knows, he just _knows,_ with a kind of poisonous dread that would make his blood run cold if it wasn't cold already, who is making those awful sounds.

When he gets to the junior aurors’ room his vision flashes deep-red at the sight before him: Percy is tied up tight, suspended from the ceiling so that his feet just barely brush the floor, magic-suppressing cuffs binding his wrists. He’s struggling hard, noises of pure distress coming through the ball of fabric stuffed in his mouth, blood running down one side of his face.

Four obviously pissed-off senior aurors are in the room with him, and Credence is pleased to see that they’ve all got bruises and curse marks too: Percy fought back. As Credence silently approaches one of them cackles in delight and reaches out to grope Percy between the legs. “Mmm. We’ll see if he respects us a bit more after this,” he says with a grin, and another auror is nodding, smirking, uncorking a vial of something that smells noxiously like burnt sugar. 

Percy looks absolutely terrified, fighting his bonds with everything he’s got, and one of the aurors smacks him hard on the ass. “Stay still,” he snarls. To the others he adds, “Quick, get that stuff in him, shut him up.”

Credence realizes in a rush what they’re doing: they are getting revenge on Percy for “showing them up.” And they’re going to do it by drugging him and—oh God no. 

They’re going to _permanently damage him,_ scar him for life, hurt him in a way that can never be healed, because they’re upset that he did their job better than they did. Credence can’t even imagine how awful, how vile, someone would have to be to cook up this idea, and when he reads the souls of the four senior aurors all he can think is _you all deserve to go to hell._

He doesn’t like to kill. Never has. Vampires don’t have to kill their prey, especially not since a simple _mesmer_ can make the person forget they were ever fed from in the first place. But murdering these fuckers is one surefire way to make sure they never touch his mate again.

~

It’s a short fight.

He doesn’t torture them (though, frankly, he’s angry enough that he could). He bites, paralyzes, and drains the first two. And then, because he’s uncomfortably full and will likely vomit a fountain of blood if he swallows another drop, he resorts to breaking the necks of the other two.

He does throw up a little when he’s done. Just because he’s so angry, and so _hurt,_ and he doesn’t physically have adrenaline anymore, but emotions can still get to him and the fact that there is such ugliness in the world has never ceased to cause him pain no matter how much of it he’s seen.

He gets Percy down, rips off the magic-suppressing cuffs and holds his trembling mate in his lap, right there on the floor. “You killed them.” Percy presses his face into the crook of Credence’s neck. If he’s disgusted, well, this is an odd way of showing it. “You killed them because they hurt me.”

“I killed them,” Credence corrects him, “because they would never stop hurting you if I didn’t.” He stands up and gently sets Percy back on his feet. “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“No—no, I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m fine. I just—” Percy swallows hard. “I want you to take me home. I’ll feel safe there. Please.”

Credence can’t deny him anything, not now, so he takes Percy home. He leaves the bodies where they are. He’ll let MACUSA sort it out, and first thing Monday, he’s going to demand an audience with President Picquery and _mesmer_ the shit out of her until she agrees to a serious overhaul of the auror training program.

~

Percy sleeps in his arms that night. And the next. And then for three more after that. Credence is firm about not doing anything else. He doesn’t want to make love to Percy with the specter of _those men_ looming over them both. But Percy needs comfort after what happened to him and Credence is more than willing to provide that, as much and as often as necessary.

There’s no trial. President Picquery herself pardons Credence for the murders before he even has a chance to power up his _mesmer._ She commends him, even, for saving her “best and brightest.” Whatever. Credence could care less about awards and press and whatever else. He just wants Percy to be okay.

It only takes a few days for Percy to cave and get a psych evaluation, which predictably comes up positive for PTSD. Credence continues to stay over with Percy, or let Percy stay with him and Newt, and every morning he watches Percy take the antianxiety potion prescribed by the healers and feels a little twinge of pride. Because he knows how hard it is for Percy to admit he needs help, and he’s pretty sure it’s because Percy knows he won’t be shut-out or judged by at least one person that he’s willing to do what he needs to do.

“I want you to make love to me again,” Percy tells him one night, after a solid two weeks of sleeping in the same bed. Seeing Credence’s skeptical look he promises, “I’m _okay,_ I swear. I’ve been keeping up with my potion and I saw the mind-healer this week and I’m _fine._ I just want—you.”

Credence knows he should say no, should insist they take things slow, that a relationship begun on the foundation of trauma won’t last. But he also knows it’s unfair to make those assumptions when he killed the last person who tried to deny Percy his agency.

So instead he pulls his boyfriend (the first time Percy called himself that, Credence was so overwhelmed he waited for Percy to go to work, then hid in the bathroom for half an hour and sobbed tearlessly into a towel) into his arms and kisses him, warm and slow and tender, exactly the way Percy kissed him their first night together. “I love you,” he whispers against Percy’s lips, because he needs to, because it feels right.

“I love _you,”_ Percy sighs back, and melts like hot butter when Credence kisses him again.

~

“Oh my _God…_ fuck, yes, _please_ do that again.”

Credence muffles his giggle in the curve of Percy’s ass and murmurs, “Do what, _this?”_ He purposefully flicks his tongue across Percy’s fluttering hole, drawing a broken moan from his mate. “You like this?” he teases, before he proceeds to eat Percy out as if his life depends on it.

Percy seems to enjoy that very much, considering that he’s practically begging within minutes. Credence replaces his tongue with his fingers, teasing and massaging Percy’s prostate until his back bows and he cries out in desperate, all-consuming pleasure. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me here,” he gasps as his body relaxes again. “I need you. Need you in me. _Please.”_

Credence smiles and kisses his way back up Percy’s body, moving over his belly, his chest, the sensitive curve of his neck. Delighting in the way it makes Percy shiver, he gently weaves his fingers into his mate’s hair and tugs as he trails soft kisses up the column of his throat. “You smell so good,” he moans softly. “I want to taste you so bad.”

Percy groans and arches into the contact. “So…why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want you to feel…” He sighs and sits up, ignoring Percy’s little mewl of disappointment. “I don’t want…listen, have you ever been bitten? No? Well…do you remember when I used _mesmer_ on you to help you sleep? It feels a bit like that. Like you’re floating. There’s pain, but it’s very…distant. You feel like…like the vampire who’s biting you is…like they’ve become the center of your world. It’s addictive, sort of; you won’t want me to stop.”

Percy nods slowly. “Credence…sweetheart, I already feel like you’re the center of my world.” He hesitates, and then asks carefully, “Will it—feel like that for you too? I mean—will it make us—closer?”

“In a way, yes. The—the _need_ to have me keep feeding on you, that’ll wear off after a few minutes. Sex helps with that, actually, and it—well, it _will_ make us, um. Want each other more. Vampires bite their partners, see, when they think they’re ready to—to—”

“Mate for life?” Percy supplies gently. Credence nods, and Percy sits up halfway so he can pull Credence down to him. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he says. “But I—I want to know how it feels. I want to—” He blushes something awful, and it makes him smell good and makes Credence want him _bad._ “I want to know that—that my blood is in you. I’m sorry, it’s strange, I—”

“Sh-h-h.” Credence lays him back and soothes him quiet with a kiss. “I’ll bite you while I make love to you,” he promises, and Percy looks _thrilled._

He works up to it slowly. Carefully. He spends a lot of time fingering Percy open first, nipping at his neck, kissing his skin, tugging his hair, whispering praises of _you’re so good, so good to me, I love you, just like that, let me take care of you_ in his ear as he does.

He brings Percy to climax like that again, urging him to touch himself as Credence tugs his hair and makes him shiver and moan. “You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, stroking the back of Percy’s neck. Percy moans softly and preens a little at the praise. “You’re so good,” Credence repeats, liking the look in Percy’s eyes when he says it. “I’m so proud of you, my love. I love you so much.”

Percy locks his fingers behind Credence’s neck and draws him in for a kiss. “Please, have me,” he whispers, and Credence—well, what can he do but give the man what he wants?

He slides in slowly, watching for any signs of discomfort and continuing to heap praise on his lover as he does—“you’re doing so good, taking me so well, just a little more lovely, can you handle that? Of course you can, you’re so good, you can do it, just a little more now”—until he bottoms out, and the look on Percy’s face as he does is nearly enough to undo Credence then and there.

Instead he rocks in and out, gently at first and then faster, more steadily, until Percy is rocking in rhythm with him and gasping with pleasure at each thrust. “I’m going to bite now,” Credence warns him, taking Percy’s wrist up to his mouth, and waits for the nod before he sinks his teeth in.

Oh— _heaven._ Credence moans in the back of his throat as the sweet, luxurious taste of Percy’s blood meets his tongue. He swallows a mouthful and tells Percy, breathless and trembling with it, “You taste so incredible, my love, just like I knew you would.”

Percy whimpers beneath him. “Do it again,” he pleads, rocking harder against Credence, his entire body held taut and his eyes squeezed shut. “Please, I—I want you to—take more. Please.”

“Just a little more. Can’t have you fainting on me.” Credence lifts the dripping wrist to his mouth and drinks again, watching his mate closely the entire time. He’s so aware of everything, of Percy’s body trembling against his, of Percy’s soft, gasping breaths, the flutters of his heart, the slow, deliciously-burning increase of his pleasure. If he keeps drinking long enough, he knows, Percy may well reach orgasm just from this. But to drink from him for so long carries the risk of taking too much blood, and he doesn’t want to hurt his precious human.

He can feel the love and trust increasing between them with each drop of blood that passes his lips, can feel how deeply Percy wants him, _needs_ him, can feel the overwhelming emotions building within both of them with every passing second. Credence knows he will hate himself if he abuses that trust, does anything to break the increasingly-deep bond between them. So he only pulls out two more delicious mouthfuls, savoring every drop, before he seals the wound and pulls back.

“More?” Percy says hopefully, and then whines in disappointment when Credence drops his wrist back to the bed and fucks him a little harder. “No, drink more, please!”

“No, love.” Credence thrusts into him with purpose, reaches down between their bodies to stroke him. He knows finding release will ease Percy’s craving to be fed upon, and that’s his first priority. But God, it’s hard to not want to indulge his pleas to drink more. He tastes and smells so good and with _his blood_ humming through Credence’s veins… “I love you,” he whispers, fucking into Percy harder and deeper and making him cry out. “I love you so much.”

“L-love you t-too—aaagh!” Percy’s head drops back and his entire body seems to convulse as he comes to one last intense, shuddering climax.

Seeing it, feeling it, knowing that he is inside Percy while Percy’s blood is inside him, is too much. Credence reaches up and tugs his hair one last time, making Percy gasp and quiver with aftershocks, and comes deep inside his mate, whispering _you’re mine, you’re mine, I love you, I need you, you’re mine_ as he lets go. He closes his eyes a moment, lets himself be selfishly absorbed in his own pleasure, and when he’s fully ridden out the last few tremors of his climax he opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

Percy lies beneath him, looking up at him in wonder, his face emanating the soft, tender glow of someone who loves and knows he is loved in return. “That was amazing,” he breathes.

“I love you so much,” is Credence’s helpless reply, the sensation of wanting to cry building behind eyes that can no longer shed tears.

Percy waves a lazy hand to make the sweat and cum and stray drops of blood vanish, and then pulls Credence down beside him. Credence immediately curls up in his arms, his head pressed up under Percy’s chin so he can hear the steady, soothing thrum of his pulse. “I love you,” he repeats, holding on as tight as he dares, mindful of the fact that he could easily crush his fragile human.

“I love you too,” Percy says, and holds him close, and Credence knows he means it with all his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of feel a need to apologize for this fic's existence honestly guys I'm sorry did I mention I Do Not Like Vampires?? :P
> 
> anyway happy almost Halloween 🎃👻 🧛
> 
> Ooh and:  
> -The 'Mesmer' (complete with italics) is a reference to the fairies' power to bend humans to their will in 'Artemis Fowl.'  
> -Mogwai = gremlins. If you have not seen the movie Gremlins, all you need to know is 1) don't get them wet, and 2) don't feed them after midnight. You can safely assume that the idiots who got hold of their nest here, have done both in copious and stupid amounts.


End file.
